


just another day

by seinmit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Threesome - M/M/M, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-19 17:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20213260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: The Winter Soldier has averygood dream.





	just another day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sashaiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashaiver/gifts).

> Based on "Let's Do The Things We Normally Do" by Dido.

The Soldier knows it is a dream. He knows, because he doesn’t hurt and because he doesn’t even know where he is, but he feels safe. He smells bootblack and dust, human sweat and cigarettes, turpentine and motor oil. 

The apartment is empty in front of him, but those smells have bodies for him. They muscle their way into his attention and grip it completely. 

He closes his eyes and breathes in and somehow the dream lets him do it, lets him be overwhelmed in the unfamiliar-familiarity. 

When he opens his eyes again, the scene has changed. 

Bucky is at the sink, washing dishes. He is singing a song that the Soldier does not remember. 

Steve is curled up in the armchair, drawing. He’s humming along and accompanying Bucky, like they’re holding a private little stage-show. 

When Bucky notices, he laughs and wipes his wet hands on his pants and takes the two steps over to Steve in the chair. He draws him up—slow and careful enough that Steve can put his drawing safely aside—and twines his arms around Steve’s neck. 

He sings and lets Steve lead him in a little dance, clumsier than he could do with one of the dames at the dance hall but infinitely more dear. He looks down but the Soldier knows, can see it in his eyes, that he already feels like he’s looking up—long before Steve’s body grew, Bucky knew it was coming in his gut. 

Bucky ducks down and twirls himself into Steve’s arms, bats his eyelashes. It makes Steve laugh—he’s in a good mood today, sometimes these antics would make him feel patronized. The Soldier is glad he’s dreaming of a good day; the alternative just seems unfair. 

He can see the moment where Bucky cannot help himself, when he leans in to taste that laugh. His kiss is rough and all-in, skipping the preliminaries; Bucky always felt half on fire with it, unable to hold back when he allowed himself that inch. The Soldier’s own lips tingle and he finds himself touching them to feel them give under pressure. 

The Soldier’s eyes settle onto the arch of Steve’s back, where he is pressing himself up into Bucky in unselfconscious eagerness. Bucky’s hand flattens on the dip just above Steve’s ass and the plates on the Soldier’s arms twitch and resettle. He can almost feel Steve's warmth. 

They kiss until the Soldier’s breath picks up. He feels rapt, the figures in front of him hovering with the same intimate distance as those behind the scope of a sniper rifle. He feels a heaviness in his gut, warmth spreading through his hips and up his spine. 

Bucky walks Steve back up against the wall and grinds into him, leaning down to press kisses against his neck. He knows that Bucky wants to bite, wants to mark, wants to leave giant signals to everyone who knows them what he has and how he loves Steve. He doesn’t. 

Instead, he ducks his head and keeps kissing, unbuttoning Steve’s shirt and placing wet, sucking kisses on his pecs. Here he takes some time to settle in, pulls bruises up with his mouth and leaves startling purple marks. He goes to his knees and frames Steve’s hips with his palms. 

Steve looks down at him, face soft and fond, and then looks up and looks the Soldier straight in the eye. 

“You just gonna watch?” he says, voice taunting. 

The Soldier takes a step forward before he can help it and then pauses, uncertain.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Come _on_, soldier. Get over here.” 

The impatience takes him the rest of the way and he stands beside Bucky, both of them boxing Steve in against the wall. He looks so pleased with himself, to be surrounded like this. This close, the Soldier can count every eyelash. 

Steve licks his lips and his gaze drops to them, red, just in time to see them twist into a little smirk. 

At this Bucky starts mouthing over Steve’s clothed dick and the Soldier gets the chance to watch the surprised arousal bloom on his face. 

“Kiss me,” Steve orders and the Soldier does what he normally does—exactly what Steve wants him to. 

He kisses gentler than Bucky, more unsure of his welcome. He can’t help but bring his hand up to cup Steve’s cheek, fingertips pressing against the soft skin right under his ear. He tastes like cheap beer, asthma cigarettes. Steve reaches up and entangles both hands in his hair and pulls, sharp pinpricks of pain on his scalp. The Soldier has imagined exactly that, every time he’s felt the long hair brush his own cheek. It feels just as good as he thought it would—it makes him press his hips up into Steve. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, amused. “I’m working, here.” 

The Soldier resists the urge to apologize and decides to change the choreography of this a little. He reaches down and puts his hand under Steve’s ass, lifting him up. Steve narrowly avoids kicking Bucky in the face and only because Bucky falls backward on to the floor. The Soldier doesn’t care. 

He takes Steve over to the arm-chair and sits back in it, settling Steve on his lap, thighs around his own. 

Steve’s eyes are wide. 

“Uh, didn’t know you could do that. Can you do that?” he says, looking over his shoulder at Bucky. 

Bucky snorts. 

“Nope,” he says. “Don’t go expecting anything. I work in a deli.” 

The Soldier takes Steve by the chin to get him looking back in the right direction. 

“Kiss me,” he says. He can hear that his voice is a rasp, more used up than Bucky’s Brooklyn-accented tone. Steve doesn't seem to mind. He grins and follows instructions. 

Steve tangles his hands back in the Soldiers hair and starts grinding up against his belly. The Soldier’s heavy tac pants are starting to be very uncomfortable and there is a knife digging into his hip, but he isn’t moving an inch. 

Bucky, after watching his fill, takes some initiative. He comes up behind them and adjusts Steve’s posture so he’s crouching over the Soldier, ass up and out. He rubs his palm against the knobs of Steve’s spine and then gets him out of his pants, Steve scrambling a little to avoid kneeing anyone in the balls. 

“D’you mind if I fuck him first?” Bucky says, making eye-contact with the Soldier. He looks cheerful and unafraid. 

“Get him wet for me,” the Soldier says and, predictably, Steve moans—he always liked to feel used. He likes to feel like he’s worked hard for his pleasure, like he’s earned it. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Bucky says with all the irreverence of someone who’s never had to follow orders. 

Bucky fishes out some Vaseline, but the Soldier only knows by the smell and slick sounds. He’s entirely focused on kissing Steve. If the dream is going to let him do this, he’s going to take every bit of it he can. He has never been good at restraining himself with Steve. 

He can feel the moment when Bucky’s fingers enter Steve in the way Steve’s breath shudders in his mouth. He bites at Steve’s lips, wanting to keep the edge going, wanting to shake him apart. Steve holds himself so tightly, all the time—this is his chance to undo him into pieces. 

Before long, Bucky withdraws his fingers—Steve makes a soft noise in his throat, keeping the Soldier informed—and slicks up his cock. When he enters Steve, he does it with a rough shove that rocks Steve’s shoulders right up into the Soldier. 

Bucky puts his back into it, really fucking Steve. Steve likes it hard, likes it a little rough—he used to have to beg Bucky sometimes, to give it to him like he wants it, because Bucky always used to worry he was delicate. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but that was probably part of the reason that Steve needed it so harsh. 

(He wonders if nowadays, in the future—if he had the chance, if he was able—would this modern-day Steve want some unfamiliar gentleness from the Soldier?)

Steve moans into his mouth, jolting his attention back where it should be, on the warm body in his lap. Steve is too caught up to kiss and is resting his forehead against the side of the Soldier’s face, rocking steadily with Bucky’s thrusts. The Soldier runs his hands down Steve’s spine, digging his nails in, and his hand bumps Bucky’s. He looks up and meets Bucky’s eyes. 

He takes hold of Bucky’s hand with his left one and holds it tight—and that’s how Bucky comes, with a grunt and a grind to his hips. 

Bucky takes a moment, panting, before pulling out and tucking his soft cock back into his pants. He squeezes the Soldier’s metal hand, hard enough for him to feel in his pressure sensors, and then takes his hand back. He sinks down into a crouch and gently moves Steve’s body to reach and unbuckle the Soldier’s pants. 

Touch on the Soldier’s cock, even through thick pants and underwear, is enough to make him gasp. 

“I got you,” Bucky says. “Hold on a moment.” 

He carefully takes the Soldier out and jacks him a couple times, slow and steady—exactly the way the Soldier likes it, which is different than how Bucky used to do it. 

When the Soldier is lubed up and about to ask Bucky to stop before it is too late, Bucky guides his cock into Steve and coaxes him to sit on it with his other hand. 

The Soldier closes his eyes and rocks up, without even thinking about it. The rough teeth of the Soldier’s fly must be harsh against Steve’s bare and used ass, but he feels so soft and wet inside. 

“Fuck,” the Soldier says. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky says. His voice sounds loud in the Soldier's ear. “Remember that? How could you begin to forget the way that feels, huh? How could you have ever forgotten?” 

The Soldier reaches out with the hand that isn’t gripping around Steve’s hip to cover Bucky’s mouth. Bucky licks him. 

“Shut up,” he says. “Let me enjoy this.” 

“Bucky can’t shut up,” Steve says, a breathless giggle in his voice. 

“You shut up, too,” the Soldier says, and jerks his hips up a few times in harsh staccato. He shuts Steve up in the best way, with a moan. The Soldier takes his hand away from Bucky’s mouth, shooting him a little glare that makes Bucky stick his tongue out at him, and uses it to grab Steve’s hair and pull him up to kiss. 

He can see Bucky lean in, in his peripheral vision—feel Bucky’s hand slipping between them to grab Steve’s cock. It doesn’t take long before he tastes Steve’s orgasm in the hitching of his breath. 

He feels it, too, the muscles rippling around his cock. It sends him over, biting down hard enough on Steve’s lower lip to draw the taste of copper, and groaning his pleasure. 

Steve goes limp against him, tucking himself into the Soldier’s neck. It has a sort of pliant docility that was rare and treasured, back when Steve always looked like this. 

Bucky pushes himself up on the arm of the chair, half leaning on the wall. The Soldier puts an arm around his waist to help support him. 

The Soldier looks over Steve’s back to where they are still joined and feels a visceral tug of pleasure at the come staining his pants and leaking out of Steve—his and Bucky’s combined. 

“Good dream,” the Soldier can’t help but say. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I think that a lot.”

* * *

Bucky wakes up cuffed to a chair. Ross and Stark are staring at him, a strange pair of eye-glasses in Stark’s hand. They both are a little pink.

“Well,” Stark says, barely restraining his glee. “I wasn’t expecting any of that.”


End file.
